Transformation
by soup.lover
Summary: Cobb can extract a secret idea. He can even implant a new idea. But does he have what it takes to transform an existing one?
1. A Mysterious Call

CHAPTER 1: A Mysterious Call

"James! Philipa! Time for school!"

"Coming, Dad!" James yelled as he jumped down the wooden porch steps.

"Come on," said Cobb as his two kids-now teens-piled into the car. "Don't wanna be late for the first day, do you?"

"It's just senior year. No one really cares anymore," replied Philipa.

"Well, it's James' first day of high school, and I wouldn't want him to miss a single minute of it. _And_ you guys are making me late for work."

James rolled his eyes. Cobb's sleek black sedan rolled up towards the school, where hundreds of pubescent teens milled about, either jittering anxiously or screaming in delight at the sight of their friends after the long summer break.

James and Philipa bid their father goodbye, rather unceremoniously at that; then again, they were just like any other adolescents who refused to be caught sight with their dad. Deep down, Cobb knew that they loved him as much as he loved them. As Cobb watched them walk away, backs turned, he couldn't help but think back to the time where he had only been able to see their backs and nothing more. But that had been ten years ago. Now Philipa and James were seventeen and fourteen, and ever since the job for Saito had let Cobb return home with all charges dropped, he hadn't made any more trips away from reality. The dark times with Mal in limbo (and twice for that matter) were enough to keep him away, despite the strong craving to go back under and build like crazy now that her projection was gone from his mind.

Before he knew it, Cobb was in his office at work: Southgate Security, a private security firm. There was no dream business done here. Cobb had found it fitting to continue working in security, but now he protected his clients from what he viewed as relatively mundane threats. He still worked for large corporations, but now protected the most powerful members from murder, theft, and sometimes cyber attacks. There was always the occasional celebrity to be shielded from aggressive paparazzi and overzealous fans, and it often humored Cobb to think of these as just real-life versions of vicious subconscious projections converging on the dreamer.

After ten years with Southgate, he had managed to work his way up to a respectable position. His personal office was spacious and modern, a construction of metal and black and glass with floor to ceiling windows overlooking a magnificent view of Los Angeles, the renowned Hollywood sign just visible in the distance. Cobb straightened his tie and sat down at his polished desk. He was the director of the department called "Preemptive Protection," where he met with clients to foresee any potential risks and discuss security plans. Being head of the department, Cobb only dealt with the trickiest and most difficult of cases. His secretary had already placed today's list of client meetings complete with notes on his desk in a neat black leather folder. He was just about to open it as the phone rang. It was the secretary's voice.

"Good morning, Mr. Cobb. There's someone calling from an unknown number on a secure line demanding to speak to you. Wouldn't give me a name, and he seemed pretty adamant. Should I put him through?"

Cobb sighed. Sometimes clients thought they were so clever like that, calling from random locations and refusing to reveal their identities.

"Put him through. I'll deal with it."

_Beep_.

"So," started Cobb into the receiver, "my secretary tells me you won't say who you are. Think you're being sneaky, huh?"

A raspy, accented voice replied calmly and quietly.

"Is that how you speak to all your clients, Mr. Cobb?" A suspenseful pause. "I'm calling because I believe we have a mutual friend."

"Oh? And who exactly would that be?" asked Cobb, nonchalant.

The caller gave a soft laugh.

"That would be…. a certain man named Saito."


	2. Someone Knows

CHAPTER 2: Someone Knows

Silence. Cobbs froze. The caller now had his full attention.

"What did you say?" he hissed.

"I believe you heard me very clearly, Mr. Cobb. I said Saito. Of Cobal Engineering?

Let's just say… Saito told me all about the little endeavor you took for him a while back into Robert Fischer's mind. He told me all about your act of… inception."

A chill ran down Cobb's spine. Could it be such a coincidence that he had just been thinking about Saito earlier in the car? There was no point in denying anything the caller had said.

"Listen, sir," Cobb said firmly, "I don't know who you are, and I don't know what you want, but I haven't spoken to Saito in years."

This much was true. The same went for the rest of the team—Arthur, Yusuf, Eames, Ariadne—after completing Saito's job, they had all disbanded and lost contact. Cobb could only guess what they were up to nowadays.

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Cobb. A proposition of a very specific nature. I think you know what I'm referring to."

Cobb _did _miss visiting the dream world. The pure creation of being an architect, of constructing whole cities, designing elaborate mazes, and building paradoxical structures that were impossible in reality; those were the things he used to live for. And what about getting the team back together? Cobb occasionally thought of holding a reunion, but what would they all say to each other? The five of them weren't ones to just sit around and talk. They were best together in action, in the field, with a mission to accomplish.

No. Cobb had a stable life now, with his children and his job. Besides, he was out of practice. And no way was he risking entering limbo for the third time.

"Whatever it is you want, I'm not someone who can help you."

"Oh, but I believe you are, Mr. Cobb. I believe you are."


	3. In A Parisian Apartment

**If you're still reading, thanks for sticking around. I only watched Inception for the first time a week ago on the plane (four years overdue, I know) and I just loved the whole premise of it. I'll try not to let the prologue-y things go on for too long, though I do just want to go over what the team's been up to for the past ten years. The good stuff is coming up soon, I promise ;) **

**As always, reviews are appreciated, and if you like what you're reading, then please follow! Sometimes a single review is all it takes for me to know to keep working on a story. **

**And now, without further ado, chapter three...**

CHAPTER THREE: In A Parisian Apartment

Thousands of miles away, Ariadne woke with a start and looked around. She was lying on the floor of her bedroom-it appeared as if she had rolled off the bed. She quickly detached the thin tubes from her wrist and stuffed the silver briefcase under the bed. She couldn't very well let her husband find out that she was still visiting the dream world-even if it was just to test out some of her designs before she drew them out for real.

"Ari?" Nick mumbled. "Come back to bed, why don't you?"

Ariadne and Nick had met on a job. A dream-sharing job. But after Nick got hurt and nearly fell into limbo for good, the two of them promised to never go back again. That is until Ariadne realized that she could use dreams to give her the upper hand in her career as an architect. She was being commissioned almost all the time, with big corporations asking her to build new headquarters all around the world, or to design classy hotels. Hotels were Ariadne's personal favorite.

"Come on, Ari, what are you doing on the floor? You can be so silly sometimes."

"Coming," she replied with a smile. She quickly stuffed a metal chess piece under her pillow.

Nick's fingers ran through her hair, and he leaned over and gently kissed her cheek. Nick was a film director, most likely drawing from his experiences in the dream world.

"Go back to sleep, mmkay?" Ariadne whispered.

"Okay," Nick mumbled.

"Okay."


	4. Arthur & Eames

CHAPTER FOUR: Arthur & Eames

"Everyone good?" yelled Eames above the sounds of the tanks and helicopters as he looked around at the military men around him.

A dozen or so men dressed in army uniforms and bulletproof jackets, each donning an impressive array of guns and knives, clustered around Eames, awaiting instruction.

"Look around," Arthur shouted, signaling at the hot and arid desert that lay all around them. "Enemy troops will come looking for us soon. They'll be out after our blood. But the difference is that we know the way out and they don't. Just remember your training, remember what you've learned, and everything is going to be fine. If anyone gets seriously hurt, we all know what to do."

Everyone on the team nodded, and they set off. Eames and Arthur stuck to the back of the group, overseeing the entire operation.

"How do you think they're going to do this time," Eames breathed to Arthur as they ran across the dirt, occasionally shooting as they went.

Arthur frowned. "Well, they need to do better than last time, otherwise the lieutenant is going to have our asses served on a platter."

"You got that right. Watch out!"

Arthur turned around just as a stray bullet hit his leg. He fell to the ground and cried out in pain. Eames stood over him, raised his gun, and shot him squarely in the head.

Arthur's eyes sprang open and he looked around at Eames and the twelve military men around him, still sound asleep and attached to the silver mechanism by a tangle of tubes. A few minutes later, each of them woke one by one, with Eames resurfacing last.

"Alright, nice training session today guys," said Eames. "Same time tomorrow."

After the soldiers had left, Arthur turned towards him. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

"You shouldn't have taken me out like that."

"It was your _leg_, Arthur. You wouldn't have been able to walk anyway, let alone run."

"Why was I even attacked, then? You're the one who's supposed to forge the enemy troops so that—"

Eames cut him off.

"Come on. Are you really going to argue with me on this?"

Arthur sighed, giving in. "Fine. Do you want to get a drink then?"

Eames smiled and gave Arthur a joking shove.

"Yes indeed."


	5. Distress

p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"CHAPTER FIVE: Distress/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"Philipa was working on her college applications and James was outside shooting hoops. Cobb was just putting away the last of the dishes when the phone rang. The first thing he heard was the voice of a crying woman.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Cobb?"p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Hello? Who is this?"p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Cobb, it's—it's me. It's Ariadne. I know, I haven't called in a while, and it's been ages since I've visited you and Philipa and James but—something's wrong, Cobb. Something's wrong."p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"Despite the team being disbanded, Ariadne was the one person Cobb had kept occasional contact with, exchanging a phone call every one or two years or so. They were both busy with their respective careers. The last time they had seen and spoken to each other was a year ago at Ariadne's wedding. Cobb knew that Ariadne was a strong person with a solid sense of intuition, and that something must have gone quite wrong to have her riled up like this.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Breathe, and then tell me what happened."p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""I came home after work—I was at the construction site all day, you know, getting a new project up and running, so I was a little late—but I came home after work and Nick was gone. He was just gone. And I knew something was wrong because I went into our room…. And… and there on the wall, above our bed, was the word: INCEPTION."p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"A chill ran down Cobb's spine.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""It was written in—it was written in blood, Cobb—probably em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"hisem blood—and—and I don't know what to do… I don't even know why I called you. I probably thought you'd be able to help, or something, anything… I didn't want to call the police because… well, obviously… "/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"Cobb's thoughts flashed back to yesterday morning. The strange phone call. Mention of inception—something he hadn't thought about or heard about for ages now. He had been one of the few friends invited to Ariadne and Nick's wedding—Cobb didn't recall seeing any of the other team members there—and he had seen how much they meant to each other. Ariadne and Nicholas Leroux: the sweetest new successful young couple. Cobb would do anything for Ariadne after what happened down there in limbo.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Listen to me, Ariadne. I think I might know who's behind this. I'm going to get to the bottom of this for you, okay? Just—just hang in there for me. Can you do that?"p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;""Yeah… yeah. I can… um… I think I should go somewhere. I'll stay at a hotel or something," she replied, obviously still shaken.p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; line-height: 15.95pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; background: white;"span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Courier; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;" span"Okay. I'm going to make a few calls, and see what I can find out, alright? Just hang tight."/p 


	6. A Name

CHAPTER SIX: A Name

Cobb sighed as he dialed the number. He seemed to be dealing with a lot of complicated calls recently. As he waited for the call to go through, he spun Mal's top impatiently on the kitchen counter. He glanced around furtively: Philipa and James still seemed to be sufficiently busying themselves. Cobb had never told them about dreamshare or how Mal had set him up for murder, and he'd rather it stay that way.

"_Moshi-moshi," _said a Japanese man sleepily over the line.

"It's Dominick Cobb."

"Mr. Cobb," the voice said, switching effortlessly to English. "I haven't heard from you in a while. Ten years in fact, and now you've forgotten about time zones and suddenly woken me up in the middle of the night? Have you been enjoying your life back home with your children in Los Angeles?"

"Yes yes, it's all very well," replied Cobb, suddenly annoyed, his tone turning menacing. "Listen, Mr. Saito. I thought after everything that we went through together on that plane, we'd at least stay some sort of friends."

"Has that not been the case?" Saito asked, bewildered.

"It doesn't look like it, Mr. Saito. Tell me, why do you have Ariadne's husband?"

"Why do I _what_?" Saito stammered. "Why would I ever do such a thing? I never even knew she was married!"

"Then _who _did you tell about inception and _why_? Whoever it is, he wants something from all of us, from the team. And he's toying with Ariadne's emotions to get it."

"I would never do such a thing. I'm honored that your team took such a risk for me, to be honest. I know it was a very difficult thing to ask. Especially with Fischer's militarized subconscious and me falling into… limbo. What is it you Americans say? Ahh… you did me a 'solid.'"

"Think, Mr. Saito. Please. Someone called me yesterday and mentioned inception. He sounded like he had a European accent… probably German. He called you a 'mutual friend.'"

"German! Yes, indeed, I do know a very particular German. But we are far from being friends. Ha, he may be one of the most cunning and clever people I know, but we are certainly not friends. His name is Wolfram Kaiser, an influential defense attorney working in Berlin. We crossed paths once, when a client of his was prosecuted for stealing from my corporation. This must have been around five years ago."

Cobb's heart leapt. A name.

"Thank you, Mr. Saito. That's all I need."

"My pleasure, Mr. Cobb. And please, do give Ariadne my deepest regards. She was extremely valuable to the operation."

"I'll send them along for you. Goodbye, Mr. Saito."

"And if you ever need anything, any strings pulled to help you with this, you know who to call."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They both hung up, and that was when Cobb noticed James at the door.

"Everything alright, Dad?"

"Yeah... yeah. I might have to leave for an unexpected business trip in a few hours. Is it okay if you guys stay with your grandparents for a bit?"

James nodded.


	7. Bait

CHAPTER SEVEN: Bait

Wolfram Kaiser lay on the luxurious couch in his office sipping some of the world's finest red wine and looking over the city of Berlin. He tried to relax, but couldn't help but glance at his watch every few minutes. Finally, someone walked into the room and approached him cautiously.

"Herr Kaiser, I am here to inform you that Mr. Nicholas Leroux has been transported from Paris onto our premises. He is not in any significant danger but after your orders… let's just say he is not in his best condition. Shall we bring him up here to speak with you?"

"No need," smiled Kaiser. "Dominick Cobb will be rushing to see me any minute now. You are dismissed."

His servant nodded, and courteously stepped out of the room.


End file.
